


All We Need

by JamtheDingus



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Anal Fingering, Bottom Keith (Voltron), Brief dirty talk, Eventual Smut, First Time, Fluff and Smut, Getting Together, Gossip, Happy Ending, Krolia Loves Keith, Laughter During Sex, M/M, Pining Keith (Voltron), Post-Season/Series 07, So much kissing, eventual mutual pining, technically
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-08
Updated: 2018-10-08
Packaged: 2019-07-27 21:14:24
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 15,983
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16227452
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JamtheDingus/pseuds/JamtheDingus
Summary: “I guess it’s fine. They probably don’t mean it.” Keith stuffs his pillow over his head, hopefully to smother the burning heartache he feels like an extinguished fire that just won’t stop lighting embers across his lungs. “He doesn’t even like me like that. Hunk’ll just shut down the rumors, and everything will go back to normal.”The fluttering wisps of his heart whisper cruelly in his ear, though, tickling his brain with the thought of: But what if hedid?---Keith gets subjected to the usual Garrison-gossip, but the catch is that they're bringing Hunk into the mix and stirring up feelings Keith would rather not have brought to light.





	All We Need

**Author's Note:**

  * For [blackberry_peachx](https://archiveofourown.org/users/blackberry_peachx/gifts).



> i was commissioned by the lovely and incredible [@space-peachx](http://space-peachx.tumblr.com/) on tumblr. Please look at her [gorgeous art](http://space-peachx.tumblr.com/tagged/my-art) and send her love, because she's probably one of the best people you'll ever meet?

Keith is officially discharged from the hospital about a week and a half after the rest of the paladins.

After he completes all the tests the doctors run on him, and after he proves that his muscles haven’t atrophied to the point of dust and that he _can_ still wiggle his toes, they kick him out with a ‘Good luck!’ and an order not to overwork himself.  

The first thing he does is go to see the Lions.

Well, actually— that’s a lie. The _very_ first thing he does is step outside to feel the desert heat surrounding the Garrison walls and take in the beauty of it all. The crackled, compacted dirt that crunches underfoot; the way his skin burns at the edges. The walls are still a little broken down, sure, but they made it out alive. And really, what’s more beautiful than that?

He snorts, rolling his eyes at his own thoughts.

Still, though, he feels rejuvenated even only with the brief touch of humidity against his skin, and it must show on his face when he gets to where they’ve stashed the Lions, because as soon as he steps through the door, Lance shouts, “Dead man walkin’!”

“Very funny, Lance.”

Pidge and Lance are lounging against the Blue Lion’s paws. Pidge has a tablet nestled between her legs, chewing on the pen that goes with it, and Lance has more or less draped himself over her, like a bored, unentertained toddler. Together they make the world’s most dangerous sushi roll.

As soon as he gets close, he’s all business. “Anything to report?”

Pidge fixes him with a look, eyebrows drawn up with that unamused gleam in her eye, but she humors him with, “Sir, no sir. These babies are sleeping as much as I _want_ to.”

She pats Blue on the paw, gentle despite it being a war-machine.

“Ooh, yeah. I could go for a cat nap.” Lance gives an overexaggerated yawn. “Get it? _Cat_ —”

Pidge knocks him against the head with her spit-slicked tablet pen. “I get it. Stop leaning on me, you beanpole.”

Keith, of course, is (generally) used to their synergy once they get off alone, so he doesn’t bat an eye at it. He hesitantly gives the Blue Lion a gentle pat on the toe instead and nods at her more than at Pidge. “Good to hear.”

And it’s that, for some reason, that sets Lance off. He grins wide, and Keith feels his fight-or-flight instincts rising like a bubbling volcano as he stuffs his hands innocently in his coat and hops off of Pidge to nonchalantly take a walk around his Lion.

“Y’know what else was good to hear?” He starts, about as sweet as caramel left burning on a stove. “The news about you and our resident cuddlebear. Congratulations, by the way.”

Keith is rightly confused at the sentence. “Cuddlebear?”

“Oh, don’t be shy.” Pidge starts in, snickering. She knocks against his shoulder with a fist, friendly enough to help lower Keith’s guard at the tone. “Everyone’s been talking about it.”

Keith’s arms cross, indignant by habit, and Lance responds aptly by tossing an arm over his shoulder and tugging him close. “I think it’s great you finally took the initiative! You and Hunk have been pussyfooting since, like… _before_ we were gone for like ten years.”

Pidge clicks her tongue. “Three years. And that was very _relative_ for us versus the rest of the Universe. Which, like, is _still_ so interesting.” Then, her nose crinkles and she hurries to add, “And don’t say ‘pussyfooting’.”

She and Lance quickly devolve into the argument about whether or not ‘pussyfooting’ is a profanity, and Keith wonders if he’ll be able to check himself back into the hospital on account of mental anguish.

“Guys—” He pinches his brow. “What are you _talking_ about?”

“Well, I mean… seeing as the prefix is technically a slang curse word, wouldn’t that mean that the entire word is, too?”

“Uh, _no._ Example—” Lance shoots two fingerguns. “Assassin. _Ass_ -assin. It’s like _double_ ass.”

Keith tugs on Pidge’s shoulder before she can get distracted again. “I literally could care less about that. What does Hunk have to do with this?”

“Don’t you mean _cuddlebear_?” Lance flutters his eyelashes, complete with smoochie noises in Keith’s direction.

Keith doesn’t dignify it with a glance, but his eye twitches anyway.

Pidge grants him mercy and pats him on the shoulder. “We’re just teasing you, dude. We know it must have been nerve-wracking asking Hunk out, but we’re proud of you!” She adjusts her glasses, settling down in her prior perch with a mumbled, “Seriously.”

“Ugh, whatever.” Keith shoves himself away, stalking to the door. “I’m going to my room.” If they were just going to tease him all day, there was no point in staying any longer. Especially not when his fragile little heart actually _leapt_ at the idea of such a thing.

On the way out, he’s intercepted by one Captain of the Atlas.

“Keith!” Shiro beams at him, fresh cut and shining almost as much as he used to back _before_ Kerberos. “I _thought_ I heard someone whispering about you being out and about. You didn’t sneak out of the hospital wing again, did you?”

“Nah, the staff caught me and set me loose before I could.”

Shiro laughs as he hooks an arm around his shoulder, tugging him close to give him a friendly noogie. Keith didn’t realize how long his hair had gotten until that moment— when it was suddenly trying to choke him out as he half-heartedly struggled against Shiro’s grip.

He also didn’t realize how happy Shiro was as Captain. It made sense, when he really thought about it, but he wasn’t sure he’d ever see that wide, toothy grin ever again after Kerberos.  

“Well, it’s good to see you up. For good, this time.” He’s released with a quick pat on the back. “If you’re looking for Hunk, I think I saw him heading towards East Wing.”

Keith’s eyebrows furrow, and his face must look perturbed, because Shiro’s expression shifts to something more serious, and his shoulders square. “What’s wrong?”

“People just keep bringing up me and Hunk today.” He jabs his thumb over his shoulder. “Lance and Pidge basically ran me out with it. Did something happen?”

It comes out more frustrated than he means it to, fingers subconsciously balling into fists. Shiro tuts at him, sympathetic rather than irritated, and tugs him out of the middle of the hall to somewhere more private— the corner of the hall.

“I’m sure it’s just a misunderstanding on everyone’s part.” He starts, gentle. As if Keith is going to dart away like a frightened bunny at the notion. “I’d heard that you and Hunk snuck off a few times and, well— you know how it is with gossip inside the barracks. Most of us assumed it was just because you two enjoyed each other’s company.”

Keith fiddles with the hem of his shirt, face growing hot. “I— Yeah, but that was… for something else.” He finishes about as lame as can be. “Hunk doesn’t like me that way.”

Keith doesn’t realize the problem with his statement until Shiro gets that look on his face, like a Venus flytrap closing in on an unassuming fly.

Before Shiro gets a chance to tease him about it too, or maybe turn a pitying look on him, Keith slaps his hand down on Shiro’s shoulder as goodbye and twists on his heel. “Anyway, I’m tired. Thanks, Shiro.”

And he bursts out of there like an exploding starship in the middle of battle. Every odd gaze on him as he hurries to his room feels like laserfire, but he tries not to let it show. It’s a blessing that Shiro doesn’t call after him and bring more attention.

By the time he gets back to his room, he feels rung out and exposed like a rubbed-raw wound. Assaulted with relentless friction, and also kind of pink around the edges. It takes a few tries for him to unlock the door, because he’s far too used to pads that read his palm instead of having to remember a pin code, but he gets in soon enough.

Waiting for him on his bed in all his fuzzy glory is Kosmo, who is already perked up and waiting for Keith’s grand reveal. His tail flaps, patting on the bed as if to beckon him closer, and Keith welcomes the way his mood immediately lifts.

“Good boy.” He murmurs, dropping onto his knees to rest against the flat mattress, digging his fingers into Kosmo’s thick fur for a few comforting scritches behind the neck. “You been waiting for me long?”

Kosmo licks a long stripe of cosmic-dog spit against his cheek and lazily flops onto his side.

Keith splutters, mostly for show, and climbs up to settle beside him. “Thought not.”

He can still feel his chest throbbing in time with his heart cracking at his ribcage from his brief cowardice, and he hopes the sound isn’t bothering his cosmic companion too much. Eventually, though, words bubble up in his throat and make themselves known.

“Atleast you're not messing with me, too.” He starts, hesitantly. “About… Hunk, I mean. I don’t get what people think it’s their business for.”

Kosmo chirps at him, a sound that had once startled Keith to hear from a dog-like creature, but it’s a comfort after the years of being together. He follows Kosmo’s suit and flops onto _his_ side, grunting as the space wolf takes that as permission to nestle close and rest his full body weight against Keith’s stomach.

He rewards the behaviour though, with a smooch to the forehead and a few long, smooth pats. It’s something he can’t bring himself to regret— not when Kosmo so eagerly opens up to him and claims him as family so _readily_.

He sighs, staring at the ceiling until the dull silver-beige (which is a color Keith didn’t know existed until the Garrison) starts to pull itself into tired, mesmerizing swirls and his mind wanders in circles along with it.

“I guess it’s fine. They probably don’t mean it.” Keith stuffs his pillow over his head, hopefully to smother the burning heartache he feels like an extinguished fire that just won’t stop lighting embers across his lungs. “He doesn’t even like me like that. Hunk’ll just shut down the rumors, and everything will go back to normal.”

The fluttering wisps of his heart whisper cruelly in his ear, though, tickling his brain with the thought of: But what if he _did_?

Kosmo shifts, ears flapping against Keith’s chin as he fixes him with a stare. When he ignores it, Kosmo chirps again and presses his cold nose against the curve of his neck to shove Keith to the mattress.

With another pitifully lovestruck sigh, Keith obediently leans back for a nap. Cosmic wolves always did have the best ideas, or so he’s learned from experience.

 

\---

 

Halfway across the Garrison, which at this point in construction is hardly three hallways, Hunk is spooning dough into a few pretty muffin tins, already shined with grease.

The strangest feeling had washed over him when he realized he wouldn’t have to substitute and re-substitute alien ingredients to make approximations for dishes. How, while plenty of things were being rationed as the world got back on its feet, easy it had been to acquire the simple flour, sugar, eggs and the like that he needed for _earth-brand muffins_. It made him giddy.

He _does_ miss those self-cleaning bowls Alteans had, though. Those were nice.

Hopefully Keith will appreciate the effort, nonetheless. It’d been too long since they’d last had celebratory pastries. Though, Hunk’s go-to would have been cupcakes— but Keith had a thing about frosting that had started many-a arguments with Lance (and _Shiro_ , surprisingly) about how much frosting was ‘too much frosting’.

Not that Hunk minded much. It was a chef’s duty to overcome obstacles and innovate. Or, that’s what a chef school brochure once said, and it had stuck with him ever since.

Partway through his inner monologue about the unsurpassed power of chicken eggs, in stumble Lance and Pidge. The resident troublemakers when Hunk wasn’t around to hold them back.

They’re giggling about something or another, Pidge clinging to Lance’s shoulders in some sort of mutated piggyback. Hunk is truly surprised that Lance isn’t being choked out by Pidge’s bony wrists digging into his clavicles.

“Hey guys.” He greets, warm as the oven he was sticking his face in to check on his precious muffins. “Hiding from the law again?”

“They can’t prove _anything_.” Pidge starts, letting herself drop from her ride. She quickly gets distracted by the batter Hunk hadn’t yet cleaned, and promptly digs her grubby fingers into it with a quick, “Hey can I have some?”

Hunk tsks at her, but she only fixes him with that spoiled look only younger siblings can get. He passes Lance the spoon, who quickly climbs onto the counter beside their resident computer nerd and begins to gobble it down.

They settle in, the rooster-shaped timer ticking away in the background. Hunk has only just pulled up a chair to rest in when Lance suddenly perks up and, after licking the spoon clean, shoots out, “Heard Keith is up yet?”

“Sure did. Made these muffins for him.” Speaking of, Hunk is able to steal a bit of batter from Pidge’s grasp and taste it.

Yummy.

Lance grins, wide and teasing. “Interesting, interesting.” He tilts his head up with an air of forced nonchalance. “I’ll make sure you and your boyfriend get some alone time.”

At that, Hunk’s mind trips and stumbles. He’s lucky he’s already sitting or else he would have dropped whatever he was holding. “ _Lance!_ ”

Lance snorts, all too pleased with himself. Hunk ends up reaching over and plucking the treat from him in punishment (though, not much of a punishment when he’s eaten it all already) and tossing the dirty thing in the sink.

“He’s not my… boyfriend.” Hunk mumbles, bashfully. “We’re not like that.”

The two of them look at each other, Pidge and Lance, before they turn those twin gazes on him. Lance ends up placatingly lifting his hands, but it’s offset by the smug wink shot his way.

“Alright, I get it. You two are keeping things under wraps— I _get_ it. You know, Loverboy Lance knows a few things about keeping secrets.”

Pidge makes a noise that’s a mix between choking and snorting on the remnants of batter on her tongue. Lance waves her off before she can make a snide joke at his expense.

Before he can continue, though, the timer goes off for Hunk to check on the muffin’s progress, and he thankfully accepts the reprieve. They’re rising nicely, with a nice-looking color around the tops, so he leaves them be to settle in for a few more minutes.

When he turns back around, Pidge has her face neck deep in the bowl to clean up the remaining divots her fingers can’t get up, and Lance is egging her on with, “Chug, chug, chug!”

“Alright, enough of that. You uncultured beasts.” He shoos them off the counter. “You’ve had your fun.”

“Is this because I teased you about being in love?”

“I— He doesn’t— _Lance_!” Hunk shoves him out, the words striking too close to center for his comfort. “It isn’t like that. We’re _not_ dating.”

Lance acquiesces, mostly because Pidge makes a slicing motion across her throat to shut him down. He pats Hunk on the shoulder with a sagely nod and it takes everything in Hunk’s power not to smack his hand against his face and blush like a virgin.

“Get out.” He ends up whining, and the two scamper off like Allura’s mice do when they’re up to no good. He watches them go, shaking his fist when Pidge turns back to knowingly grin at him.

In the silent aftermath after their tornado-like arrival, Hunk finds himself wringing his hands.

While he knew Lance was just teasing him, as much as Pidge and him do whenever Lance gets a crush, too, it makes him think.

Keith was always a bit of an enigma to Hunk. He was quiet, but he wasn’t an _angry_ quiet, or a _bashful_ quiet. Maybe a lonely one.

But he was also loud— in the ‘I’ll kick your ass’ type of way. Loyal and brave. _Loyal_.

He’d been willing to stick with Hunk through anything when he’d went to save his parents. He made sure Hunk _knew_ he was with him through it all, and that meant the world to him— to have someone on his side for something so personal.

Hunk buries his face in his arms. In hindsight, it was such a nice thing for him to do. And Keith was pretty nice like that, _all the time_ — never really leaving him behind to deal with things on his own. He’d even, despite being a bit uncomfortable with the mushy-gushy stuff, had stayed and talked Hunk through missing his parents, and actually _hugged_ him. Hunk knew good hugs, and that had been a _good_ hug.

He’d been hesitant at first, lightly pressing his palms against Hunk’s back. But, the longer Hunk squeezed, the more he relaxed and leaned into it, until Hunk could press his nose against the curve of his neck and steal the warmth from it if he’d wanted to. Or, how his arms were dense with muscle but gentle with the way they arched around him, careful not to dig too tight— just to hold securely.

It had been a nice, safe, warm hug. And when they’d pulled away, Hunk filled with inspiration like never before, Keith had smirked at him with that look he gets when he’s _really_ fired up; crinkled at the corners. The fierce look in his eye had made his heart rate pick up, but the way his smile gentled as he made it clear Hunk wasn’t alone had positively melted him, the way only Keith had been able—

_Oh._

Hunk startles all over again as realization washes over him at the exact same moment that the timer dings for him to check on his muffins. The feelings that had seeded in his chest back then only begin to bloom then, soaking in the sudden yearning radiating from his heart.

As he sets the muffins out on a rack to cool, he’s hit with the sudden urge, upon realizing his rather sudden, rather obvious feelings, that maybe he should make them look a little prettier. They were just plain, brown muffins. Keith didn’t even like adding bits of flavor in them like dried fruit or fillings!

As if a fire lights under his heels, Hunk circles around the kitchen in search of something to box them with and something to make them prettier. Maybe some ribbon— but a Garrison kitchen wouldn’t hold something like that. They hardly added salt to their potato soups.

He ends up finding a box meant to hold a decorative cake, and it ends up leaving a lot of space between the muffins, but it would be better than nothing— much better than his plan to just carry them on a plain old plate.

As he’s halfway stuffed under the counter in search of anything to make a pretty bow out of— even _dental floss_ , his headband ends up getting caught against a wayward wood slat near his head. It tugs it completely off, and he grumbles about it for half a second until he realizes that it’s the answer to his sudden prayer, and he kisses it with as much enthusiasm as a grandmother greeting her favorite daughter’s child.

The cake box is big enough that it doesn’t leave much room to make a fancy tie with once he wraps it with it on all four sides. But there’s just enough to make a plain bow at the top, slightly obscuring the see-through plastic. Which, considering the muffins were so plain-looking, wasn’t too bad of an option.

With a wide grin, he holds the wrapped gift up to appreciate it in the light. Excitement thrums to his veins as he thinks about how happy Keith might be when he gets surprise muffins. And, pushing Hunk’s newfound feelings aside completely, Keith surely deserved every single one.

He blows a stray lock of hair off his forehead with a huff, and begins the trek through the jumbled hallways that were the Garrison dorms.

 

\---

 

Keith is startled out a nebulous dream, filled with nothing that he can remember but the way it leaves his cheeks warm. That, and the faint pulse of arousal that still lingers between his legs.

He pushes it out of his head as Kosmo knocks his shiny nose against his ankles, urging him out of his groggy state. As soon as he sits up, Kosmo is at the door— through it, almost. His tail is wagging slow in faint interest at whatever happens to be sitting outside of it, and Keith hurries to stand before he gets it in his head to teleport after it himself.

When the door opens, Hunk has only just lifted his fist to knock. He misses, quickly veering out of the way of hitting Keith in the face, and ends up instead planting his palm against the doorframe.

There's a beat of awkward silence between them, until Hunk rights himself with a lighthearted giggle. "That's embarrassing."

He grins, beaming bright like a supernova, and Keith is so caught off guard by it that he doesn't get a chance to respond before Hunk is pressing a plain box into his hands.

"These are for you. Made them special." Hunk rocks back on his heels as soon as Keith grabs hold of the treats, eager. Keith balances them in one hand, gently running his fingers across the headband tied taut around them. When he looks up at Hunk, he can't stop his heart from melting into a messy puddle at the soft, open look Hunk is regarding him with.

"They're kind of to say thanks, I guess." Hunk starts. "It's real good to see you out of that bland, old hospital bed, which is why I made them in the first place, but I guess they ended up becoming 'thank you' muffins. They're more like cupcakes without frosting, though— I hope that's okay. I remember you liking this recipe from forever ago, and I didn't want to experiment and give you something you _hate_ , you know? But if you don't like them, I don't mind making more! It was fun."

Hunk pauses to take a breath, tapping his chin. "Although, it's interesting to figure out what constitutes a muffin versus a cupcake. I mean, you can't just add frosting to a muffin— that's just disgusting! Or _is it_?"

"Hunk. You're killing me." Keith grunts, his tired brain sludging through the sudden muffin discourse Hunk is putting him through. He appreciates the thought, though, and hurries to punctuate it with a small smile of his own. "Thanks, big guy."

Hunk flushes red, posture straightening. "Hey, like I said. Just wanted to say thanks."

Keith steps back from the door, glancing around at the mess for one hesitant moment before he sweeps his hand forward to invite Hunk in.

"Oh!" Hunk fidgets, stepping across the threshold only after an extra second's uncertainty. "Don't mind me intruding, then."

He says this mostly to Kosmo, apparently. Said cosmic wolf excitedly circles Hunk's legs, probably expecting the treat or two that Hunk tries (and fails) to be sneaky in adding to his diet. Hunk greets him with a few well-placed pats and a few loud smooches against his forehead. "Who's a good boy? Yes you are, _yes you_ _are!_ "

Kosmo growls his excited growl, complete with that stuttering chirp he adds when he gets so excited that he wags his entire body, and Hunk rewards him with a scratch behind the ears.

Keith sets himself on the bed, taking in the image. There was no better character recommendation than a dog's— and Kosmo had a sixth or seventh sense about these things. One more thing to add to the list of things that made Hunk so admirable in Keith's eyes.

He clears his throat to stop that line of thought before it can drag too far. "What did you want to thank me for?"

Hunk perks up, leaving Kosmo with a slide of his fingers across his soft, downy fur around his belly, before he plops onto the bed beside Keith.

“I just figure I ought to do something for you. I mean— it meant so much that you came with me to find my parents. You were willing to fight with me, and everything.” He bites his lower lip, hesitant for a moment. Then, his palm slides between them and places itself against Keith’s thigh, careful and light as if to test the waters.

Keith’s heartrate picks up, and he looks down at the muffins to give himself something to do with his own hands. He unties the box, careful as not to accidentally tear the headband, and plucks out two muffins, one for each of them.

He rolls the words around his head for a brief respite as Hunk gratefully accepts a muffin to taste, humming in appreciation at the flavor that explodes across his tastebuds. Keith hardly has to get a smell of them to know they’ll be orgasmic.

“We’re in this together.” He says, finally. His brow furrows as he tries to find something else to add, to make it more impactful, but the words escape him like gophers retreating in their holes. When the silence stretches between them for longer than he hoped, Hunk picks up the reigns and smiles at him again.

“You’re right. And just like you were there for me, I’ll always be here for you, Keith.” His hand moves from Keith’s thigh to his shoulder, giving it a friendly squeeze that echoes in his chest. “Just wanted to make sure you knew that.”

Keith sighs, quiet and lovestruck. He allows himself to lean into the touch, until Hunk is close enough for him to have to tilt his head up to look him in the eye. Whenever he blinks, he sees the way Hunk’s eyes dart from one eye to the other, nervously studying whatever it is he sees there.

It’s only when Hunk licks his lips that Keith realizes they were _much, much_ too close. He tenses, suddenly, and Hunk hurries to pull back in response.

“Um! Anyway—” Hunk interrupts himself, flubbing for words as he stands, carefully stepping over Kosmo’s tail. “I’ll let you get some more rest. It was nice seeing you.”

Keith jumps up too, to walk Hunk the two steps to the door. “Uh… thanks, Hunk. I’ll see you around.”

Despite the sudden and lame ending, Hunk still graces him with an ecstatic smile. It’s more than anything Keith could ever dream, and it makes him feel like he’s floating through clouds when Hunk leans forward again— to wrap his arms around Keith’s shoulders and give him a brief squeeze of a hug.

Before Keith finds it in himself to think of a relevant response, Hunk is pulling away and waving goodbye.

The door shuts automatically as Hunk turns towards the hall, but Keith could swear he saw a tinge of red dusting his cheeks.

Another lovestruck sigh leaves Keith staggering back to the bed, collapsing onto it with as much grace as a pining man could. He hugs the muffin box to his chest, careful not to ruin the gift inside.

But, before he can get carried away and start rolling around with them (as if he would), he’s reminded of the familiar tie that lies folded atop it, adding a splash of color to the plain white box.

The headband lies innocent against his palm when he picks it up. When Kosmo curiously sniffs at the end of it, Keith thumbs the edges. It’s softer than he expected, Hunk’s headband, and it’s long when it’s not wrapped up in Hunk’s hair.

Hunk did look good with his hair down, but it’d been such a foreign picture to see him without it at first. Keith lifts it to press against his forehead, as if to gain some insight inside of Hunk’s head for no reason other than to try.

When it does nothing but warm his temples (and his cheeks, for different reasons), he slouches back and lifts it to the light.

Kosmo quickly gets bored of watching his chosen grow weak-hearted at a piece of fabric, and proceeds to steal half of the bed in order to nap.

Keith grunts, half out of realizing his own ridiculousness, half from nerves. He brings the headband close again and, before he can think of reasons why not to, proceeds to tie it around his forehead.

The ends brush past his shoulders as he smooths them out, and the fabric stretches to cover his hairline beneath his bangs.

A sudden feeling of comfort washes over him like the gentle waves of an ocean at sunrise. He feels refreshed, but heavy at the same time— curling against his nearby pillow as he basks in it all.

When he presses his hand against his chest, he can still feel it beating wildly, but it’s muted for something more important as he lets his eyes flutter shut.

He falls asleep quite by accident like that, tangling himself up in the bedsheets and the headband. The last thing he thinks of is a vivid image of Hunk pressed close to him, tracing his thumb across the red of Keith’s lips, murmuring sweet things to him. The last thing he feels is an intense need boiling in his gut like an overflowing, overfilled pot.

 

\---

 

As soon as Keith wakes up the next morning, he’s out of the door and away from his heart. He hardly changes his outfit— just the bottom half, really— before he’s thrown himself back outside and into the desert.

It’s strange being back after all that time in the endless space. Now there’s just endless orange and endless dirt.

Kosmo joins him about an hour later, gnawing on some sort of jerky from the kitchens. He idly hopes he won’t have to make up for it later, but he has a feeling that nobody really minds. Most Garrison-goers were dog lovers anyway.

He doesn’t take his hoverbike out like his body is itching to, but instead climbs to the roof to get a better view. He’d already missed the sunset, but seeing the light reflecting off of the valleys and canyons is always magical.

That’s where Krolia finds him, half in a meditative state. She doesn’t quite sneak up on him, announcing her entrance quite clearly actually, but her touch to his neck startles him anyway.

“Morning.” She hums, joining him on the precipice. She offers him a wrapped breakfast sandwich and a bottle of fruit juice that has a few sips already taken out of it. He doesn’t have to squint at her to find red stained in her lips, but he does side-eye her anyway, teasing.

“When do we start training again?” Keith asks, instead. His hand strays to Kosmo, who perks up at the idea of practice, but Krolia only shakes her head and hooks a knee up under her chin.

“Not today. You’re still too fragile.” She teases, but she has this strange look on her face that Keith can’t exactly place. Protective, perhaps?

Truthfully, she was frightened of losing him, but she won’t add that to his emotional baggage just yet.

She taps his breakfast sandwich, a silent request, and he obediently begins to eat.

It takes him a few bites to notice that she keeps staring at him.

His eyes narrow suspiciously, completely by habit, and she only quirks a smile at him as if she’s gotten the upper hand somehow.

“What?”

Krolia immediately looks away, the picture of innocence. “Nothing.”

A bout of silence floats between them, and Keith only continues to stare at her. Then:

“I always thought you were more of a private person, is all.” She hums, hesitantly reaching forward to thumb his cheek. She’s always hesitant when it comes to maternal things like that, as if he’ll push back and run away. When Keith only openly gapes at her, she exposes one of her fangs in a teasing grin. “But, he’s good for you. I’m glad you aren’t shy about it.”

“ _Mom_.” He hisses, face immediately flaming red at the implications. “What are you _talking_ about?”

She steals the rest of his sandwich with no remorse and downs half of it in one bite, tossing the rest to Kosmo who swallows it down while Keith is busy imploding.

Krolia pats her hands clean of the crumbs and stands, helping him up. Then, she tugs one end of a very familiar (and very much so _not_ his) orange headband into his view.

“Is this not the Yellow Paladin’s? Hunk, right?”

Keith jerks out of her grip, excuses jumbling out of his mouth like a spilled box in an attic. She waves it off, shrugging nonchalantly as if she hasn’t just short-circuited her son while simultaneously stating that she thinks Hunk is _good_ for him.

“I— gotta go.”

There’s a brief look of panic that crosses over Krolia’s face, as if she thinks she’s ruined everything between them. Keith is aware enough to, despite the embarrassed heat twisting around him, give her an awkward half hug and murmur, “See you later.” before he dashes off to panic in private.

He doesn’t catch Krolia laughing at him as she and Kosmo blink out of existence, probably to go spar on their own, but he can imagine it well enough echoing in his head.

 

\---

 

Hunk brandishes his weapons of choice— oil rag and a well-used wrench— at the MFE jets. His every move is nervously eyed by the dozen or so scientists that seem to _live_ in the hangars, just for the ships, so he tones down the theatrics if only so he doesn’t get kicked out prematurely.

“Having fun?” Shiro asks as he pats the wing Hunk was currently nestled under, shining bright as if he were a proud parent. He _was_ incredibly proud of Atlas-team, so Hunk tried not to tease (but man was it hard).

He screws a panel back in place and nods his head, nodding almost as enthusiastically as Shiro looked. “I don’t think I’ll ever get over how awesome these things are.”

Hunk slides out and stands with a hand from Shiro. They make room for the more official engineers as they crowd around to look over his work, but Hunk had been more snooping than trying for modifications.

He wipes his hands clean on his rag and slings it over his shoulder, accidentally beaning himself right in the forehead with the tail end. It leaves a smudge of grease that Hunk tries to wipe up, but by the amused gleam in Shiro’s eye, he doesn’t do it very well.

They’re ushered out of the way, and Shiro leads him towards the open hangar doors, just to get fresh air.

“You know, I’m sure everyone would be glad to have you as part of our engineers.” Shiro hums, thoughtful. “Once they see the work you’ve done, I wouldn’t be surprised if I had ten dozen requests for you personally.”

Hunk runs a bashful hand across the back of his neck. “Thanks, man.” And then, because he realizes Shiro is an authoritative figure in this situation, “I mean— Sir. Captain.”

Shiro snorts, a rare occurrence, and Hunk is playfully knocked in the shoulder as Shiro is called away almost as soon as they settle against the wall. “Just Shiro is fine. Try not to be a stranger down here.”

Just to be cheeky, Hunk sends him off with a salute and a, “Yessir!”

Shiro jogs off with a brief roll of his eyes. It’s so funny to Hunk, being able to see Shiro in a light like that. He’d always been untouchable— the Prodigy that the entire Garrison based their doctrine on, or the Black Paladin who led them through everything fearlessly. But here Hunk was, teasing and laughing with him as friends— more than just coworkers on a mission to save the galaxy.

Hunk huffs an incredulous breath and makes his way out of the expansive hangars, thumbing at his forehead to get rid of the oil that just won’t budge with his equally oily fingertips smudging it about.

Since that morning he’d been fiddling with himself, picking at his hair fringe until it was frizzy and just a tad stressed around the ends. It felt so _empty_ without his headband, but he hadn’t had the chance to see if Keith happened to still keep it from yesterday.

He isn’t sure if he’d be able to survive the trip either. Every time he thinks of the prior day, he thinks of Keith opening up to him. Of him staring wide-eyed, beautifully surprised at the sudden gift.

He tries less to think of the way Keith had leaned in, lips parting, but that’s for even more selfish reasons. He wants to keep that memory as untouched as possible— to keep it that much more impactful when he inevitably dreams about it again tomorrow night.

Hunk is so busy thinking about tomorrow nights and Keith’s lips, that he’s hardly paying attention as he rounds a corner. Someone knocks into him, solidly enough that he’s bounced back a few steps, and _they’re_ flung back about three stumbling feet.

“Oh! Keith— sorry about that, dude!”

The apology comes out easy, despite him zeroing in on the band of orange nestled beneath Keith’s bangs. He hopes his face isn’t a sappy as he thinks it is as he reaches a hand up to finger the long strands, though he _does_ correct himself and makes them drift to the headband instead.

“Hey— you kept it.” He beams, satisfaction settling upon him much more easily than it should.

“Oh.” Keith reaches behind his head at the knot, as if he’d been worrying at it for a while. “Sorry. I was coming to return it.”

Keith, for one, looks overstimulated at the sudden onslaught. Hunk pulls back to give him some space, and he makes sure not to mention the strange feeling that coils in his gut at the view Keith graces him with— pink-faced and bashful.

“You look good in it.” Hunk says, warm as honey in tea. “Maybe I’ll have to just get a new one.”

Keith doesn’t laugh at the joke, and Hunk has long ago learned not to get offended, though he does fiddle with the tie even faster. “You shouldn’t. This one’s yours— it’d be weird for you to be without it. And it’s important to you.”

Hunk gives a thoughtful hum at that. A dozen or so responses pop into his brain, most variations of, ‘You’re important to me.’ but he tries not to let the mushy, romantic part of him take over so soon after realizing his crush.

Also, it’d be awkward what with how completely tangled up Keith had made himself in such a short moment. His hair flares up where it’s tucked under the strip of fabric, and it gets shorter in the back as he accidentally knots his hair around the ends.

“Need some help?”

Keith doesn’t admonish the cheeky tone, even though he shoots Hunk a withering glare as he turns. “Thanks.”

It would’ve been undermined nonetheless, if Hunk had been able to see the soft smile that immediately breaks out across his lips. Despite him coiling his hair into a mess like an idiot.

Hunk’s warm body gently crowds against his back, pressing them nearly flush from shoulder to feet. Keith can only imagine that look of concentration he gets, tongue slightly poking out past his upper lip, as gentle fingers prod the nape of his neck.

Keith doesn’t allow himself to lean into it _too_ much, because that’d be creepy, right?

Hunk gets it free with just a bit of finagling, and absolutely no ripped hair to the surprise of the other.

The band slips against his shoulder, pooling against his collarbone. He still hadn’t changed out of the prior day’s clothes of a plain tshirt and those bright orange garrison pants, but Hunk passes an appreciative eye over them anyway.

Hunk has to clear his throat a few times, finger combing the last few tangles out of Keith’s head. “There we go.”

Keith doesn’t turn, just for a few extra seconds. Then, he reaches up to feel where Hunk had focused his attention on, shyly smiling as he hands Hunk back the object in question. “Guess I should probably cut this mess, anyway. It’s been a while.”

“It has.” Hunk glances at his forelocks, hesitantly reaching up to twist a strand around his finger before he lets it fall back in place. His smile is half hidden as he chews his bottom lip, as if he’s hiding a secret. “This looks good on you, too.”

The only reason why Keith doesn’t laugh in Hunk’s face is because Hunk takes a step back and pats Keith on the shoulder. “Mind helping me put this back on?”

Keith grunts his affirmation, though Hunk has already mostly turned by then. He stoops at the knees, just to make it easier on Keith’s back, and Keith kind of wants to hop on and get a piggyback ride. The thought of Hunk laughing at— not with— him convinces him to stay in his place.

He ties it loose, in a ribbon shape because he doesn’t want to accidentally trap Hunk in it too, and Hunk twirls on his toes and thanks him profusely, as if he’d done something extraordinary.

Well, on second thought: Hunk without his headband was a force to be reckoned with, but his headband was such a core part of his personality that Keith could hardly imagine him parting with it for more than a day at a time. Maybe Hunk missed it while it was away.

“So, thank you pizza-bites? We don’t have to worry about polka-dotted space marinara anymore.”

Keith snorts, but his stomach jumps at the opportunity. Half of a breakfast sandwich wasn’t really much for a half-grown Galra boy.

He gestures down the hall with a jerk of his head, arms crossing. “Only if it’s you making ‘em.”

Hunk nudges him onward with another pleased grin.

 

\---

 

Two or so days later, Keith starts to regret it.

It’s almost immediately after that incident— Keith getting tangled and untangled and Hunk gently fixing him— that more and more people had come up to him to congratulate him on the ‘relationship’, as if he were about to get hitched and packed off to some exotic landmark on honeymoon.

It crescendos completely a couple days later, though, and so does Keith’s temper.

He blows up at one of the MFE pilots— Rizavi, because she teases him about it almost as much as Lance and Pidge do. And he’d learned to deal with those two when they’re echoing off one another, but she was more or less a stranger, and he didn’t like being teased by people who didn’t know him. Barely liked it when his friends did it.

It’s because of that incident specifically that Shiro has him by the upper arm, not disciplinary but just as firm, dragging him somewhere private. They end up on the dormitory side of the Atlas, and Shiro shuffles them into an empty, unassigned room.

It only takes a few moments for Shiro to look him over— to take in the disheveled way he has his uniform tucked in and the ragged way he keeps shoving his hair from his face. He’d seen this image so much that it’s almost like they were transported back in time, except Keith is no longer a cadet in danger of expulsion and Shiro is less a picture of perfection. Shiro hopes he’s still as helpful as he used to be.

“I’m assuming,” Shiro starts as stable as he can, “that this has something to do with Hunk?”

Keith slides onto the empty mattress. Then, he flops the rest of his body down and buries his face into his hands. Shiro hums, sympathetic, and joins him.

“I haven’t seen you this upset about something in a while.” He admits. “Does it really bother you so bad?”

Keith groans, and it kinda sounds like a walrus cry with less reverb but Shiro doesn’t say as much.

“I just… want people to mind their _own_ business.” Keith rolls over, and then decides to stand as restless energy fills him. “I mean— just because Hunk was nice to me doesn’t mean he owes me _anything_. And it’s unfair of them to…  to— ugh.”

He’s half a step into pacing the room when he instead decides to drop on the floor and lean against the wall. “I dunno. He probably doesn’t even like me.”

Shiro sits up again, turning a critical eye to him. Keith doesn’t _look_ like he’s crying, but the way he says it sounds painfully sad if Shiro tries to read between the lines. So, Shiro joins him on the floor and presses their shoulders together. “Have you asked?”

Keith actually _flinches_ at the words. It’s so strange, because Keith was the strongest person Shiro knew— and he was wrapping himself in circles over something like this. But ‘this’ was probably a first time for him, too.

Shiro mulls it over as Keith curls up even tighter, hugging his knees to his chest.

“Keith—”

“What _if_ he doesn’t like me?”

He says it meekly, embarrassed and even _angry_ at himself because of it, but there was no one in the universe Keith could ever be more open with.

Shiro straightens his spine, and Keith hurries to mimic. Then, Shiro slaps his hand on his shoulder and tugs him close. “You’re worrying too much.”

When Keith starts to interrupt, Shiro tuts at him and gestures vaguely towards the door. “I’ll admit: I don’t know Hunk as much as I know you. But, I know him enough to say that _nothing_ will ever ruin the friendship you two have created together. If it turns out that he doesn’t _like_ you in the romantic sense, you’ll still be friends above all else. Always.”

Shiro nods, as if it were already confirmed. Then, he quickly adds, “And, if you ask you won’t have to agonize over this ever again.”

Which, really, is more than Keith was expecting. He was _expecting_ Shiro to laugh and to tell him to get over it at the very most, which would have been a very not-Shiro thing to do, but it fills him with comfort to know that Shiro actually cares.

Before he can voice as much, Shiro digs his elbow against Keith’s side and grins. “He’ll probably say yes.”

“ _Shiro_.”

Nonetheless, it fills Keith with courage.

 

\---

 

The very next morning, as soon as Hunk has finished breakfast and said goodbye to everyone as they headed about their day— because the paladins still liked to eat breakfast together, even in a packed-full Garrison cafeteria— Keith grabs him by the arm and tugs him into the abandoned kitchens. Which is basically got him into this mess into the first place, one of them pulling the other into semi-private spaces, but— whatever.

Hunk watches him, wide-eyed, and it leaves Keith’s heart fluttering. He feels short of breath, enough so that he stumbles over his words a few times.

“Is everything okay, Keith?”

And he asks it so genuinely concerned that Keith wilts. He sinks onto a counter and sighs heavy, urging Hunk forward to join him. “Listen, I… I’m not the best at connecting with people. You guys know this and all, but, uh…” He wrings his hands. “I figured I should just get this over with, you know?”

A warm hand runs down his spine, resting just at the small of his back. “Whatever it is, I’m here to help you through it, man.”

Keith hopes his face isn’t as red as he thinks it is. It’s such a foreign feeling to be so nervous— especially around Hunk. He can’t _remember_ the last time he’d been so nervous about anything, including the hundreds of battles they’ve been through.

Hunk starts to gently circle his thumb against Keith’s back, probably to soothe some of the tenseness that’s settled there, and it feels so good that Keith promptly blurts out, “I like you.”

It makes Hunk goes stiff beside him, and Keith is quick to ramble on, already pulling out the emotional bandages as he looks in the opposite direction. “I mean, I know you probably don’t like me back. But people keep _saying_ things and bringing it up, and I just… wanted to get my feelings straight. You don’t deserve to get wrapped up in a mess like this.”

When he picks up his head again, Hunk’s eyes are shining. It feels hesitant, but his hand starts to move again to usher Keith closer, until their legs are pressed together and Keith can feel the warm radiating off of him.

“And what if I said that I do like you?”

Keith jumps— literally startles— at the words. He’s sure his mouth drops open, and by the way Hunk grins at him, pleased and mirthful, it looks ridiculous.

It makes no sense to him, that Hunk would like him back. That it might be a one-way street, and Keith had just too oblivious to look in his blind spot. _No way_.

Hunk settles in, straightening his spine. “Keith, you’re one of people I most admire. And one of them that I care for the most. I tried to hint at it earlier but everything you do is so impactful, and you’re just… _amazing_ , Keith.”

He interrupts himself with an embarrassed laugh. “I mean, I didn’t realize it that I liked you until pretty recently but— yeah. I like you, too.”

Then, after a beat, “A lot.” Hunk nudges Keith in his side, gently. “That’s partly what those muffins were for, but I didn’t want to make you feel obligated to feel the same.”

He knew how strongly Keith’s emotions controlled him (uh— in a good way. He’d been working on control for the longest and that was yet _another_ thing Hunk admired about him). Still, it comes as a surprise when Keith presses a hand to his forehead and lets out a relieved, overwhelmed laugh.

It turns from a laugh to a sob, relieved but _still_ a sob, and Hunk alarmedly gathers him up, squeezing him tight. “Uh?”

“Sorry.” Keith swipes at his eyes, but one arm does come to circle Hunk’s waist, to squeeze him back. “I just… wasn’t expecting that. Any of that.”

There aren’t actually tears streaming from Keith’s eyes as Hunk pulls back to get a look at him, and he _looks_ happy, so Hunk takes his word for it. He cups his palms against Keith’s cheeks to check, too, feeling for invisible tear-tracks with his thumbs. Keith leans into the touch, eyes fluttering shut, and Hunk gets distracted by the tiny, relieved smile that he’s graced with.

When Keith's eyes flutter open, vulnerable in a way Hunk isn't used to, _he's_ the one to stumble over his words next. “Well, I hope this was better."

"Yeah, I—” Keith’s lips graze against the tips of Hunk’s thumbs when he speaks, and Hunk hurries to pull them away. If Keith knows what he’s doing to him, he doesn’t mention it. He leans in, instead, and presses his head against the curve of Hunk’s shoulder. “Yeah.”

The lights flicker off in the cafeteria, signaling the end of their heart-to-heart unless they want to get locked in until dinner. He slides off of the counter and, with an overexaggerated flourish, offers a hand to help Keith down as well.

Keith holds onto his hand for a few moments longer than strictly necessary, but Hunk only grins at him and tugs him close.

“So... Are we going out now?” Hunk squeezes their palms together, glancing down as they tangle their fingers together. His palm is a little sweaty even past the fingerless gloves, but Keith doesn't pull away from it.

Instead, he makes a show of thinking it over, until Hunk pouts at him and gives him a shove.

He laughs, nearly tumbling over as they hurry out of the cafeteria. It makes him feel younger, carefree in a way he isn't used to.

When Hunk seems to forgotten the question, after they're lightly scolded by the staff for taking so long, he ducks his head underneath Hunk's arm and squeezes him close. He doesn't _have_ to care if people see them now, and he takes full advantage of it.

Hunk flushes a pretty pink at the sudden proximity, but he's the type to _never_ deny a hug. It should be illegal how cuddly the guy is, but Keith wouldn't be the one to turn him in.

He smiles, hopefully in a way that can be read as happily content, and murmurs, “We’re going out now.”

 

\---

 

Nothing really changes between them, after the confession. Keith still acts like Keith, and Hunk still acts like Hunk, but when they're together _everything_ is different.

The first time Keith really noticed it was when the team gathered around to talk with the MFE squad. Lance, for some reason, insisted that they all meet where the Lions were packed in like sardines (but that was probably just because he wanted to show off. Especially since his sister was there, too.)

Hunk had settled against Yellow, cooing at the Lion like he coos at Kosmo. The wolf had even wandered over for some well-deserved pats, just because he associated the noises with them so much.

Keith was verily distracted by it. Mostly because Hunk is so handsome when he smiles, and his eyelashes do that thing where they like... flare out...

He knew he was in pretty deep but— _wow_ what a hunk.

He gets pulled out of his outright adoration of everything to do with his boyfriend (his _boyfriend!_ ) when Lance clears his throat obnoxiously.

"You haven't been listening at all." He states, smug. Lance picks at his nails, as if they were more interesting than looking at Keith's suddenly flustered expression. "I know you and Hunk are having fun making gaga eyes, but can you _atleast_ do it when we're not entertaining Team 2?"

Rizavi holds up a peace sign as Lance makes a grand, sweeping gesture towards 'Team 2'. The group of them had settled against the floor, watching a few videos on Pidge's datapad of Voltron on Ice, and none of it _really_ required Keith's attention in the slightest, but Lance tsks at him anyway.

Veronica tugs at Lance's jacket, toppling him to the floor. "Leave him alone." She hooks her hands against her chest and exaggeratedly swoons. "He's in _love_."

Atleast Keith understood where Lance got it from now.

The two of them fall into completely unnecessary, uproarious laughter at his expense, the kind that can only be obtained by two siblings bouncing giggles off of one another.

Keith leaves them to be shushed by the rest of the team to, instead, relax with Hunk.

Kosmo had claimed the space between Hunk's legs as Keith approaches, but he picks up his head and wags his entire body when Keith bends down to scratch at his neck. "Hey, boy. You treatin' Hunk nice over here?"

Hunk smoothes the fur atop Kosmo's head with a quick peck before leaning over to let Keith slide in beside him where he sits between Yellow's toes.

He hooks an arm around Keith’s back, murmuring babytalk at Kosmo all the while. He easily integrates Keith in it, too, until Keith is barely holding back laughs as Hunk pinches at his cheeks and calls him ‘widdle muffin’.

That’s different, of course, but Hunk is still Hunk and Keith is still Keith, but the rest of the team could argue that they’re more lovestruck than ever.

 

\---

 

Another, more meaningful time that Keith notices it is when they actually go to tell the rest of their friends that, _yes_ they're actually dating now. For real.

Keith tells Shiro, first. Privately. It earns him a firm pat on the back and Shiro beaming at him as if _he_ were the one who'd asked someone out successfully.

The others, Hunk and Keith go to tell together. Pidge had only shrugged, stuffing peanut butter crackers in her face as she tried to wrestle Matt away from the rest of her stash. "Figured it'd happen soon. Congratulations."

Lance, though, who had been sitting across from Pidge watching the entire match (wherein Matt was losing and Bae-Bae was the true winner, eating everything while the two siblings were distracted) was the most outraged.

"You two really _weren't_ dating?" He then smacked a hand to his forehead and apologetically tugs Hunk in for a hug. "Sorry, dude. I said some, uh... kinda mean things about you in my diary. For not being the first one you told."

The two of them had laughed it off, because Hunk had already read it in Lance's journal and _knew_ what he wrote, so that had been that.

At the end of that day, Hunk had pressed a kiss against Keith's cheek as he dropped him off at his barracks.

Hunk had insisted, really, that he start walking Keith back, like a _gentleman_. Sometimes, when Hunk gets distracted when he's working on a project, Keith gets to be the one who walks him back to his room.

But that's all beside the point. Keith had to restart his brain after the pleasant tingling had finished coursing across his skin, and by the time he blinks and starts seeing again, Hunk is bashfully rubbing at the back of his neck. "I... hope that was okay."

He tugs Hunk in by his shoulders and kisses the stars out of him right there in the doorway. Their teeth awkwardly clink together on the first dip, but by the time Hunk finishes trying to muffle his laugh, Keith has gotten the hang of it.

Their lips slot together easy, especially when Keith stands up on his toes, and Hunk's arms fit nicely around his back when he holds him close, encompassing him in an almost overwhelming heat.

Fingers trail down his back, following the curve of it until they catch at the belt of his ugly, orange uniform. Hunk doesn't try to work it off, but it's a steady presence that Keith is able to lean into.

One of Keith's legs slip between either of Hunk's, nudging _just_ right at his groin and— Oh.

A warm, throbbing bulge presses directly against his thigh, and Hunk pulls back with a sharp, aroused gasp.

Keith licks his lips as he takes in Hunk's flushed features— eyes lidded, mouth shiny and kissed almost swollen. He's breathing heavy, hands lifting from Keith's back to hover at his hips, as _if_ they were a bother.

Keith tugs him back in for one more kiss.

 

\---

 

So, they don't end up _doing the do_ that night. They barely get close to that for another week, but Keith doesn’t much mind, and neither does Hunk. He’s still a bit embarrassed about having to hide his chubber on the trek back to the other side of the Garrison, if he’s being honest.

A few weeks after _that_ , Hunk is sure the universe is just picking on him by now. He stumbles to his dorm after a long day, only to find a notice posted on his door that he has to find somewhere else to room, as repairs have shifted to his section of the property.

He has until after breakfast the next morning to find a new place to crash, which is what drags him to Keith’s door.

He nervously wrings his hands in the hallway for about half an hour, probably. Maybe Keith would think they were moving too fast, or maybe Hunk would step over those boundary lines that he knows Keith keeps carefully guarded. It would break his heart to accidentally wound Keith so deeply like that, which is why Hunk agonizes over it, despite having the very viable option of slotting himself in Pidge’s room, or Lance’s like the good old days.

Still, regardless of the above, it isn’t Keith saying _no_ that makes him truly nervous.

If he says yes, Hunk isn’t sure his poor, romantic heart can take it. He can just imagine the intimate moments they’ll share— Keith blearly blinking awake in the morning and cuddling close because it’s cold and the covers cover half his legs at best. Or them staying up late until the sun rises, giggling about nothing until their intoxicated on nothing but sleeplessness and each other’s company.

Hunk’s chest _aches_ for it.

So, he slaps away his anxiety and knocks on the door.

He already has everything packed in two boxes, set off to the side of the hall so that Keith won’t feel pressured to usher him in. Hunk hurries to wipe any dirt and grime off his front, just as the door slides open and Keith peeks at him from underneath his bangs.

Hunk promptly gets distracted by the way they frame his face, one side tucked behind his ear. It’s grown so _long_.

“Everything okay?”

Keith smiles at him knowingly, and Hunk can only embarrassedly laugh it off.

“I… can I— stay with you? For a while.”

At Keith’s confused blinks, Hunk hurries to show him the note he’d plucked from his door before he left.

It only takes Keith scanning a few lines before he’s smiling all over again, stepping aside to let Hunk in.

 

\---

 

He settles in quickly. It’s easy when Keith helps to unpack what few belongings Hunk had brought with him from the castle, and lets him stuff them in the empty spaces between Keith’s own.

Hunk, in the midst of breaking down a box to put it in recycling later, stoops down to press a kiss against Keith’s forehead. “Thanks for letting me stay.”

Keith almost immediately gets flustered by it, ducking his head down to hide his enamored expression. "Sure. 'Course you can."

After that, they're left with the rest of the night to awkwardly run into each other in Keith's tiny dorm room. More than once do they trip over Kosmo as they try to slide out of the other's way, and even more frequently than that do they end up as blushing, stuttering, lovestruck messes when the other does something cute that they never noticed before.

Hunk, finally, has to give his heart a break. He goes to take a shower.

"I'll try not to use all the hot water." He'd said, but Keith only shrugged a shoulder.

"I prefer cold, anyway."

The shower didn't do much to calm him down. As he soaped up, all he thought about was getting back out there and seeing Keith. There was nothing that brought him more peace than seeing him curled around Kosmo, reading over some books or reports, or something.

Hunk forces himself to stay in the shower longer than necessary, shampooing and detangling his hair. He even shaves his legs, because why not. It’s a long, _long_ process that makes him bend in awkward angles, but he does have to admit that he likes the way his legs look after.

In the end he has to stay even _longer_ to clean the hair out of the tub, but that was fine. His knees were sore, pressing down on the bathroom tile for so long, but they're very smooth as he towels them off.

The steam billows out behind him when he finally emerges, and he nearly runs into the desk as he towels off his hair. Keith's faint laugh, kinda breathless and kinda distracted, makes him blindly stick out his tongue as he blinks towel fuzz out of his eyelashes.

Luckily, he'd remembered to bring his PJs with him in the bathroom, so he didn't have to worry about accidentally flashing Keith as he feels his way around the bedroom, towel covering his head until his hair stops dripping everywhere.

"You're so silly." Keith murmurs. Hunk feels his palm run against his cheek, and he can't help leaning into it. "You ready to sleep?"

Hunk wrings out the last bit of his hair, and Keith fingers the conditioned ends of them absently. "Sure. Unless you're wanting to stay up a little longer."

"No, I'm... Good." Keith awkwardly pulls away with a quiet cough to clear his throat. Hunk moves to get off of the bed, reaching for the pillow and blanket he brought, but Keith hurries to grab his hands and pull him back. "You can stay, if you want. Up here."

He's painfully shy about it, in a completely endearing way. Hunk bashfully looks away, rubbing his thumbs against Keith's fingernails as they squeeze their hands together. "If that's really alright with you."

"Of course it is." Keith murmurs, worrying his bottom lip in a way that almost makes Hunk dip forward to capture it between his own, to nibble at the soft (yet, chapped) skin until it was swollen. He isn't sure how he holds himself back.

Keith pulls away again, to the other side of the bed. Hunk almost scratches at his head as he thinks about how to go about getting in without taking up all the space of the tiny twin mattress. Eventually he slides in, stiff as a board atop the scratchy quilt Keith had managed to find.

"Oh!" Keith quickly jumps up to pull back the covers, shooing Hunk back off the bed. "I don't usually use these, sorry." He folds down the blanket and the sheets so that they're nicely lined at the foot of the bed, but he ends up somehow tangling his ankles along with them.

His face glows a cherry red as Hunk laughs at him, a teasing snicker. Kosmo even huffs, and Keith reads it as amusement when the cosmic beast eyes him from across the room (snuggled nice and comfy in the corner he'd claimed as his own).

Hunk shoos Keith's hands away to help, carefully tugging the bedsheets from his person. They end up mostly on the floor as Hunk runs his fingers across Keith's calves. That really shouldn't feel so good, but Hunk's hands are gentle and warm enough to send a shiver racing through Keith's entire body, and it makes him feel _precious_ with how affectionately Hunk looks at him afterwards.

Hunk reaches to turn the lights off as he climbs into bed, mimicking Keith's prior awkward cough.

Keith turns to stare at the wall, he's so flustered, and Hunk slides into the space that he leaves him, cautious not to touch in case that's too much. Keith only allowed him to stay, not to feel him up.

For a good while, the only sound between them is the carefully timed breathing of the both of them combined under the low hum of the machinery under the Garrison. Every so often, it gets interrupted by the subtle shift of sheets as Hunk tries to convince himself to do something, to ease the sudden tense air.

He reaches out to touch Keith's hip, cautiously hovering against the skin exposed by Keith's loose tshirt. He knows Keith must feel the heat of it, and occasionally the brush of his fingertips against it as they nervously twitch as his anxiety starts to get the best of him.

Keith reaches down, slow and steady. Hunk can't see his face, but he can see how red his neck is from his blush, and he can feel Keith arch his hip into the touch.

Their fingers tangle, linking together just above his skin. Each space is between is filled perfectly and completely. Keith tugs him close, wrapping Hunk's arm around him like the world's best security blanket.

Hunk scoots closer still, until they're flush together. He waits a cautious moment, just in case, but when Keith only relaxes into the heat of him, he sneaks his other arm underneath Keith's neck to hug him properly. Keith snuggles into the curve of his elbow, comfortable in its firm-soft texture.

The two of them relax almost immediately. Keith passes his lips across the sensitive skin of Hunk's inner elbow, and it's almost too much but in the best kind of way. He feels so warm that he feels like he's drowning in lava, just barely cooled from its boiling point, but he's never felt anything so pleasant in his life.

Hunk is no better on his end as he grazes his thumb across the faint, barely-there scars on Keith's hips. Most are soft, faded like stretchmarks from a childhood growth spurt. Others are rough and jagged, just freshly healed and probably still raw at the edges even after the long months.

All of it is a part of Keith he'd never experienced before, and it makes his so inexplicably giddy that he has to hide his smile against the back of Keith's neck, concealing it beneath the thick, soft hair that he'd grown over the space-years.

If he tilts his head enough, he can almost feel Keith's pulse against his lips. He tries not to think about how intense it is, but also how it's almost perfectly aligned with his own. He, instead, thinks of that old story his parents used to tell him— how each person had another who's heart carried the same exact rhythm. Just another reason for him to fall in love with Keith even further.

"This is okay, right?" Hunk whispers, feather soft and light as a full moon's beam.

Keith sighs, a hunger for that tone growing in the pit of his lungs. He leans in even closer, until Hunk's firmly squished against him. His cold toes brush against Hunk's warm ones, inciting a startled gasp. He grins, pulling Hunk's hand up to briefly kiss the knuckles before he sets it right back where it belongs, pressed against his skin.

"This is perfect."

 

\---

 

In the morning, Hunk is the first to wake up. He groggily cuddles closer to Keith, ducking away from the sun that's snuck its way past the curtains, somehow.

Sometime in the middle of the night Keith had turned himself around so that his face was firmly buried against Hunk's chest, more or less smothering himself in it, and Hunk presses a quick kiss to his forehead before he moves away.

Their legs are just as firmly pressed together, tangled like sailor knots. He couldn't untie himself if he tried, and Keith is content to sleepily tug him back for a few more minutes of peaceful sleep.

He flops back against the pillow, rubbing at his eyes until they clear. His free hand travels its way across the pillowcase, until they can comb through the curtain of hair that fans out beneath Keith's head.

With their bodies so close together, he can feel every subtle shift Keith makes as he begins to awaken, and every move of his hips presses directly against Hunk's groin. He shivers at the feel of it, and curses under his breath when he feels himself begin to harden so quickly.

Keith, though, refuses to let him go even in his half-asleep state. Hands cling to his midsection so tightly that if Hunk had sat up, Keith would have gone with him like a koala clinging to a tree.

He runs his hand down Keith's back, following the slope of his finely toned muscles. With his other palm, he reaches between the two of them, if only to provide another barrier so that he isn't just rubbing against Keith's leg like a horndog.

It doesn't end up helping.

The added simulation instead makes Hunk breathlessly moan, bucking against it before he can control himself. The sudden jolt is what wakes Keith fully, blinking his eyes open— alert and at the ready immediately.

He relaxes minutely as Hunk blinks back at him, letting his eyes flutter shut one more time. "Hey." He murmurs in that sleep-rough voice of his. It's soft and scratchy like a jute rug, but it gains a confused tone at the end when he looks down between them.

His eyes widen playfully as he realizes what exactly has happened, and Hunk is already hurrying to explain himself.

"Sorry, I... You know how it is." Hunk laughs, flustered, scooting back. "You're just _really_ good at hugging. And you smell so good."

His rambling is cut short when Keith smiles, hiding it against the pillowcase. "I don't mind."

He tugs Hunk back with a quick pull of his hips. It grinds him directly against Keith's clothed groin, and Keith doesn't stop the grinding until Hunk's eyes roll up and flutter shut, biting his lip at the stimulation.

A kiss against the side of his mouth makes him open them again, and he quickly pulls away with a startled, "What about morning breath?"

Keith snorts, so surprised that he lets Hunk go for a brief second to knock their foreheads together. "I don't mind that either. C'mere."

He tilts Hunk's head up by the chin, running his thumb across his bottom lip. When Hunk leans in hesitantly, Keith traces along his skin until his hand comfortably cups itself against Hunk's cheek. Their lips pass over one another, gently and soft as dandelion tufts.

Keith spreads a leg as Hunk scoots further in, allowing one of Hunk's thighs to press directly between his own.

Hunk takes the hint gratefully, letting his fingers catch at the elastic waistband of Keith's sweatpants. He's so nervous about it that Keith has to shove them down most of the way before Hunk takes up the reigns, but Keith doesn't much mind.

He's nervous too, really. Every touch nearly makes him startle out of his skin, no matter how expected it is, but he focuses on their kiss to keep himself steady and stable. It's already gotten spicier, tongues dipping forward to playfully press together. One moan from Keith completely locks their lips together, and Hunk's hand comes to press against the back of his head to keep him there for a needy moment.

They pull apart when Keith has to kick his pants the rest of the way off, but they lock back together again just as quickly. Hunk rolls them over so that Keith straddles his belly, carefully keeping him in place with two heavy palms to his hips.

Keith follows the length of Hunk's body down with his fingernails, softly grazing his skin with the uncut tips. He reaches the hem of Hunk's night shirt, part of the pajama set that perfectly matches his bottom half.

He takes a moment to feel enamored by the soft, cloudy pattern that's engraved in the fabric, before another, more urgent matter calls his attention.

Hunk's length throbs between his legs, where they're basically rutting against one another as they make out. But, what _really_ captures Keith's regard is the way Hunk's hardened nipples tent at his shirt, prodding at Keith's own even. He sneaks his hands underneath the button-down and presses the pads of his thumbs against them, pulling a startled gasp from his boyfriend at the cool touch.

" _Keith_." Hunk murmurs, and Keith can't tell if it's scandalized or heated. Maybe both.

He passes over them one more time before he sits up, wiping at his mouth with the back of his hand.

With a contemplative hum, he audibly smacks his lips together and says, "Maybe we _should_ have waited after brushing our teeth."

Hunk turns a healthy shade of red, immediately burying his face in his hands. Keith bursts out laughing at him, falling forward to press more teasing kisses against his skin. Hunk shoos him away with a pillow, but Keith is persistent as he nips at Hunk's collarbones and murmurs softly in his ear.

"I'm kidding."

"I don't believe you." Hunk says, muffled behind his palms. Keith kisses the back of his hands to move them out of the way, and Hunk quickly acquiesces. A tweak to his nipple makes him let out an embarrassed squeal, and Keith snickers as he dives off the bed in search of a few supplies.

Hunk sits up and watches him go, already missing the warmth that'd been cradled against him. He rubs at his thighs, where Keith had been set upon like a prized treasure, and awkwardly adjusts his erection before Keith comes back.

When he returns, it's with a nice bottle of lube and an unopened condom resting in the palm of his hand.

Keith climbs atop him with a brief prompt of Hunk patting his thighs.

"Let me know if any of this isn't okay." Keith demands, pressing down on Hunk's shoulders to catch his attention. He isn't quite sure what to do with them in the moment, but Hunk's quick, agreeing nod is all he needs to get started.

It isn't desperate by any means, but Keith's heart starts to beat like a drum in the hollows of his chest as he begins to strip.

Hunk sits up, completely enraptured as more and more of his skin is revealed, until he's clad only in boxers (Garrison-brand and decorated with a muted gray accent that Hunk kind of wants to trace along with his tongue, just to see what Keith would do).

"You're beautiful." Hunk murmurs as he hooks an arm around Keith's back so that he won't fall as he tosses his clothes on the other side of the room. It allows him to get a good, close look, and he takes the opportunity to trace kisses along the faded, red lines engraved into Keith's skin.

They travel as far down as his hip from his shoulder, but not in a straight, uninterrupted slice. Hunk hadn't been able to get a good look the night before, but he follows them with his fingers just the same as then.

Keith allows himself to bask in the attention, blood simmering low in his veins. It's as if a constant shiver is preparing to course its way through his body as Hunk touches him, and he doesn't even realize how hard he's gotten until Hunk's hand has found its way to his lap and rests itself directly against it.

He dips his head down to hide his expression against Hunk's skin, but he gets distracted as Hunk pulls him in for another kiss. Which is totally unfair, because Keith is already starting to get addicted to them.

Hunk begins to undo the buttons of his flannel pajamas, and Keith helps by pawing at every inch of skin that's revealed soon thereafter. Hunk doesn't get a chance to pull it completely off, though, because Keith presses him back down against the mattress and works on getting his bottom half bare, too.

"You're so impatient." Hunk says quiet, yet somehow awed. He dips a finger against the curve of Keith's neck, just to feel, and he obediently stays where he's been shoved.

Keith slides down one side of Hunk's body to cradle him from the side, and promptly slides his hand into Hunk's underwear. "Yeah?"

Hunk's reaction is probably something Keith will remember for the rest of his life— just because of how _pretty_ it was. He arches against the touch, mouth dropping open and eyes falling half-lidded. One of his hands clutches at Keith's, from the other side of the underwear, and it seems like he isn't sure if he wants more of it and _fast_ , or if he wants it to go slow and sweet.

The noise he makes is pretty endearing, too. It's a cross between a whine and a moan, or maybe a startled yelp.

Keith drinks in every detail, as much as he can, before he sits up again and reaches for the lube.

"Can I...?" He trails off, nervously licking his lips as he squirts a healthy amount against his fingers. "Can I ride you?"

Hunk melts against the bedsheets, stars caught in the orbit of his eyes. Angled like this, Keith looks shrouded in the sunlight like an ancient god come to life, straight from a painting. He has such a playful, comfortably calm look on his face that Hunk would be willing to do whatever he wanted just to see him like that forever.

"Yeah— no, I mean— _Yeah_. Yes." He flubs. Keith laughs at him— a bubbling giggle, as he mutters a desperate, "Please do."

When Keith reaches back behind himself to finger himself open, quick to get things started, Hunk stops him with a grab of his wrist. "Let me?"

As if Keith would reject that idea.

He nods, allowing Hunk to lean up again. He bends over, propping his hips up as he cuddles into the pillows. His lubed fingers make a quick mess of the bedsheets, but he quickly spreads whatever's left against his length.

Hunk takes his time getting ready, tugging Keith's boxers down with a gentle, slow motion. Then, he kisses the apex of his tailbone as it gets exposed, and bodily lifts Keith's lower half just to get them all the way off, wrapping them up in his nightshirt, which he quickly tugs off to toss onto the floor so that nothing is left to get in their way.

He lubes his fingers with even more than Keith did. As he waits for it to get comfortably warm, he litters Keith's thighs with kisses and nips and licks, keeping his attention piqued while they wait. Keith slowly jerks himself, lazy if not for the wanton twitches his hips make as he keeps the pace tortuously languid from tip to bottom.

Hunk thumbs at his entrance, and it's not unexpected but it still makes Keith jump. An apologetic noise is whispered against his skin as his rim is tugged at, and Keith absolutely would give up the world to feel this all the time.

Hunk takes it slow.

He only gently prods at his hole for the longest, hardly even slipping inside with the very tip until Keith wiggles his hips back to force it in. Lube spreads messily between Keith's cheeks, and some even drips its way between his thighs and onto his cock when he writhes the right way.

It's a beautiful picture. Hunk keeps Keith's ass parted with one palm firmly pressed against him, and he takes a brief respite to appreciate the way his hole clings back at the tip of his finger. He presses it in further, exploratorily but just as careful as can be.

Just so that he won't lose his mind, Keith busies himself with his upper half. He presses his hand against his mouth to keep himself quiet, and uses the other to feel along his midriff. He trails high enough to just barely graze across his nipples, teasing himself as much as Hunk is, and he dips low to encircle the base of his dick with his fingers, to take the edge off.

Hunk switches his thumb out for his index finger— and then adds his middle when Keith arches his back and moans for it.

"Too much?"

Keith feels the stretch of his ass clinging desperately to Hunk's fingers, but he knows it'd be pulling him in further if it could. "'sgood. Great. Keep goin'." Keith slowly lowers his hips to the bed, trembling the entire while.

He's played with himself before— usually gets as far as three fingers before he either gets bored or finishes— but being with Hunk is so _different_. He feels worn out and they've only just begun, but at the same time his entire body is thrumming with the need for it.

Hunk slowly pulls his fingers out, until just the very tip of his longest is still in, then _slowly_ presses back in deep. It does a good job of spreading the lube, and an even better job of stimulating Keith's prostate _just_ the right way.

Keith moans, choked as he covers his mouth again. " _Right there_."

Hunk adjusts himself from behind, and the mattress squeals when he does. He presses in again, curiously, and Keith angles his hips the right way so that he can find it again. When he does, Keith's toes clench and he has to bite down on the pillow at the intense pleasure that bellows through him.

Just watching him is enough to get Hunk off, if he's being honest. The deep blush that's painted itself across his skin, accented with a thin layer of sweat here are there. The way he opens himself fully to Hunk and whines for more. He presses a third finger against his ass and murmurs, "Another?"

" _God_ , please." Keith agrees, reaching back to spread himself apart for Hunk. "They're so thick."

Hunk's laugh comes out more embarrassed than he intends it to, and Keith fixes him with a heated stare. It's like staring down into the eye of a volcano, bubbling dangerous but hypnotic all the same. Hunk nearly drowns in it, until Keith lets out a loud moan and starts to speak for him.

"You're making me feel so good, Hunk. Stretching me out so good— so much better than I can by myself." He spreads his thighs a bit more, opening himself up just that much wider, and he lets out a lewd, _sinful_ sound. "Keep going, baby."

Hunk's expression must be _something_ , because Keith starts to laugh at him. Laugh! While he's two (and a half) fingers deep in his ass.

When he pouts, Keith only laughs more at him, and it goes on long enough that giggles bubble up in Hunk's chest, too, and soon he's gathered Keith up in his arms and is wiping away joyful tears from the corner of his eye.

"You're... something else." He wheezes, carefully cleaning his fingers on his pajama bottoms. "I'm gonna be thinking about that for a while."

"Yeah?" Keith grins at that. "Always knew I had a way with words." He leans against Hunk's chest, burrowing in close to listen to his heartbeat.

Hunk kisses him on the forehead, taking their sudden break for granted as much as he can. He tickles Keith's sides, the latter jerking away from the sudden assault with a sharp, giddy gasp, and tugs him close to smooch a path from his face, to his jaw, to his neck.

Keith tugs down Hunk's boxer-briefs as Hunk gently nibbles at the back of his neck, biting his lower lip as he eyes his prize. It's still hard, just as much as Keith is, and nicely decorated with a pearl of pre at the half-hooded tip. He throws one of his legs over Hunk's middle to straddle him all over again, breaking Hunk's concentration, and he reaches over for the condom.

"I'm gonna ride you now, yeah?"

He plops himself down soundly on the curve between Hunk's legs, and Hunk's hardened dick slots itself nicely between his asscheeks as he leans forward to kiss him silly. Hunk mutters a few choice swear words under his breath, and Keith promptly swallows them down.

He pulls back only a few inches to rip the condom open with the sharp teeth of his canines, and drops back down to kiss Hunk again as he lets his fingers do the work. It's a little hard when they're pressed together so closely, and Hunk's frame is a little larger, a little taller, than Keith's arms can reach, but with a bit of finagling (and a little help from Hunk), he gets it on.

They're both breathless by the time Keith sits back up, and a glance to the side says that they've been at this for longer than it feels like. He lets out a content sigh, squeezing both his thighs down on Hunk's midsection just to squeeze before he shimmies lower.

Hunk sits up on his forearms, nervously licking at his lips as Keith positions himself in a half-squat, prodding the very tip of his dick with his winking-open hole. He lowers himself slow, mostly because he's a _lot_ thicker than his fingers and as much as Keith adores the stretch, he wants to be able to sit for the next few weeks, thanks.

He's hardly halfway down before Hunk is pawing at him again. He wraps his warm palm across the girth of Keith's dick and follows the length of it up and down, spreading more lubricant across his fingers again.

Then, he lifts Keith's hips with the other and prods at his entrance to smooth the way. Not that it needed it. But Keith appreciates it anyway, lifting up a few inches to give himself the briefest of breaks before he's pressing back down with a vengeance. He takes all but the very last inch with a shuddering breath, letting his head fall back as his toes curl.

Hunk lets loose a string of gibberish that sounds a little blasphemous, and it ignites a proud fire in Keith's gut. He's trembling where he's touching Keith's waist, fingers digging a little sharply into his skin, but it's not a bad feeling if Keith is being honest with himself.

He rocks forward, rolling his hips. In the quiet, their words feel muted compared to the rest. Keith ends up pressing most of them against Hunk's skin, pulling his hands up to kiss along his palms.

It feels best when he leans back, though. Hunk's cock prods easily against that sweet spot inside of him, and Hunk gets a good angle to help stroke Keith off at the same time. If he feels Keith's thighs trembling at the sensation, he does nothing more than squeeze them appreciatively and let Keith do whatever he wants to him.

"I don't think I can keep up with you." Hunk laughs, strained. Keith squeezes down on him in response, and the dick deep inside of him twitches hard. He reaches down to caress the base of it with his fingertips, flipping his hair over his shoulder as it gets in the way. He dips down to nibble at Hunk's bottom lip, kissing him one more time.

Their hands end up entwining somewhere in the middle. Keith's grips onto them tight, even more so when one particular thrust sends him dangerously close to orgasm.

"Keep touching me." He brings their tangled hands down low and helps Hunk to jerk him off, shuddering when Hunk takes that opportunity to suck a nice, big hickey on his neck. His teeth scratch at the fragile skin there, just the right amount, and Keith's resounding moan would be embarrassing if he weren't past the point of caring.

Keith thrusts against Hunk's slick fingers, simultaneously fucking back on his girth. He's honestly surprised when Hunk ends up cumming first with a tense, choked moan as he tries to muffle himself against Keith’s neck.

Hunk lifts his hips, thrusting through it until Keith is twisting and writhing in his grip, whining for more. He's so close that the coils in his gut have coils, and he can't help the keening tone he's taken up.

He hits his climax when Hunk is as deep in as he can get, palms spreading his cheeks to get that extra amount of leverage. It drags through him like a roaring rampage, and he _really_ hopes that his sudden yell because of it won't make someone start banging on the door. The afterglow promises to be just as fulfilling as the actual act, and he wants to be able to bask in it as long as he can get.

Hunk coddles Keith as he comes down, hugging him close enough that Keith can feel their sweat mixing. He'd be grossed out if— well, actually he probably wouldn't ever be grossed out by it. He licks a stripe along Hunk's shoulder just to taste it, which is probably grosser, but Hunk only laughs at him, drained as it may be.

They flop back onto the bed, Keith sliding to fit nicely between the crook of Hunk's arm and the rest of his frame.

Hunk makes a move to get up after a few moments of them catching their breath, but Keith pulls him back easy with a tug around his waist, kissing along wherever he can reach. He steals his lips for a few good ones, readily ignoring Hunk's halfhearted protests about having to 'clean up'.

He's just trailed his hang across Hunk's chest again— maybe to build him up for a quick round two?— when a familiar curious chirp sounds out from across the room. It startles the both of them out of their skin, and Kosmo warily blinks at them when they hurry to cover themselves up.

Hunk's incredulous laugh rocks his entire frame, sending a wave of adoration through Keith's heart even as his entire face flames red.

" _Kosmo_." He hisses, burying his head against the pillowy softness of Hunk's arm. "Oh no."

"I can't believe he didn't leave." Hunk agrees, but he's more amused than drowning in humiliation like Keith is. He pats the bed invitingly, and Kosmo turns his nose up at the offer, which only prompts more laughter.

Keith groans, but he can't stay upset when Hunk murmurs sweet nothings at him in consolation. When he picks his head up again, Hunk stares at him with the warmest look that Keith gets even more flustered, raking his sweat-slicked hair in front of his face.

"What?"

"Nothin'." Hunk hums, pleased with himself. He brushes Keith's bangs back again, tucking them behind one of his ears. "You just called him 'Kosmo' is all. Thought you didn't like the name."

"Oh." Keith glances over at said Kosmo, who has promptly gone back to ignoring them in order to make up for the sleep he must have missed in the excitement. He presses his cheek against the curve of Hunk's chest, tracing an absent pattern against his skin.

"It's a pretty good name." He agrees eventually, playfully hesitant. "But as soon as he tells me his _real_ name, that one's gotta go."

Hunk tilts Keith's head up to peck him across the lips before he turns back to jelly again, snuggling deeper into the covers. "Of course, dear. But I'm glad you like it in the meantime."

"Mm." Keith shouldn't be so smitten, so completely taken over by his heart just from the simple use of the word 'dear', but here he is. Hunk just had that way about him.

He's cuddled closer, tucked in with the blanket even, and Hunk settles them down for a rest before they inevitably have to get up.

Keith only has to contemplate for one extra moment before he steals another kiss. Just to get him through the nap.

When he spends an extra second too long just staring at Hunk, fingers tracing over his lips, Hunk pulls him in to give another— just for him to keep.

 

\---

 

So, Keith doesn’t really like gossip. That’s been very established, he would think, especially after the week he’d had.

But, just this once, he thinks it played out well enough on his end— and the results were _more_ than worth it.

  
And, in the end, Hunk really does stay as Hunk and Keith as Keith. But Keith gets a lot more hugs these days, and sometimes they end up taking up the shadowed spaces of the halls just to share shy, giddy kisses— but you won’t find _him_ complaining about that.

**Author's Note:**

> peach was so encouraging throughout the entirety of me writing this (which was a LONG time. i literally don't even want to look up how long it took.) and she was never upset with me for taking forever ;w; which I really truly appreciate. 
> 
> I hope that this shows even an ounce of my gratitude and awe towards her, and I hope she only has the best of days forever. <3 <3 <3 x1000
> 
> don't forget to check out her tumblr [@space-peachx](http://space-peachx.tumblr.com/)!


End file.
